Rebooting
by DreadingTheDayWhenYou'reGone
Summary: A girl that knows absolutely everything there is on the Internet, from conspiracy theories that the president is actually Batman to high-level mathematics, but does not know how she showed up on the footsteps of Bruce Wayne's manor, or who she is. A girl that has more questions than her brain can answer. A girl who is restarting her life.
1. Prologue

**I'm back! I'm stressed, and tired, and in college. But I'm back! I hope you guys like my rebirth, because I sure as hell missed writing a lot. Also, there's a reason she's never given a name. You'll find out. I missed you.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not make any profit off DC Comics, or Young Justice, nor do I own any of the ideas produced by the DC company.**

* * *

Technology ran their lives. Everyone used some sort of device—cellphones, computers, televisions, portable gaming consoles even. Everyone in her class used them; every one of her friends owned a cellphone, using it to text and watch videos and whatever else they wanted to do.

She lived in the technology era, where if you didn't have a cellphone, you weren't very popular.

And she wasn't very cool to begin with. Throw into the fact her friends from elementary school no longer wanted to play hide-and-seek, or go to the playground, or hang out with her, making her feel like she was missing something important. It was the summer before middle school began that the cellphone spree began. They were the generation to fall in love with phones.

Messages that seemed to be encrypted turned out to be shorthanded versions of words and phrases, where "are" equaled "r"and the simplest of sentences became a hash of letters and symbols, symbols becoming facial expressions. She wouldn't understand the words when her friends tried to show her a text or two once, everything was just letters and nonsense. For the first time in her life, she felt lost and alone, as if this wave of technology was overcoming her simple-minded self.

When she did receive a phone from a distant relative she never met, she still chose only to text from it occasionally. The occasions when one was sent to her felt like she was being sent mumbo-jumbo, only a random abbreviation here and there she understood. But computers were a different thing entirely. While visiting the library, she would surf the Internet, play games, do anything she wanted. She could easily take one apart and put it back together. She never owned her own computer, though, just a notepad in which she wrote ideas for websites she began, but never finished. And every year, to parents she never remembered, she sent a list. A list that included two things: a computer, and a new notepad, one of which she never received.

It was much to her surprise when she was given a computer, the more unlikely of the two gifts, during her junior year of high school. This gift was from the same relative that sent her the phone, a long lost relative that never wanted to be found. She was elated. She was still alone.

Which meant she was perfect material for what was hidden inside her computer. A virus, of sorts. A virus that could erase anything and everything it touched, including memory. No family, no friends, no connections. It would be as if she never existed.

She lived alone, in a dingy little apartment in Gotham. Her past was vague, a blur of always living in this apartment, always receiving bi-monthly checks that were sent by Wayne Enterprises to keep her alive. Occasionally, she would have memories of her father. A strong, burly man with short hair. His voice was deep, but he would always smile at her. She knew nothing besides these faint memories of her father, and there was no recollection of her mother.

Overall, she was happy with her life. She was following a routine, which didn't bother her. School, home, computer, sleep, repeat. She was constantly on this cycle of analyzing the Justice League, of large incorporations such as Wayne Enterprises, as well as staying well read on news throughout the world. The rule of fifteen minutes of screen time and taking a break never got to her. In fact, she had perfect eye sight.

While she was never connected to a person throughout school, she felt connected to every piece of the world through her computer. The Internet was her escape, and it welcomed her warmly.

One night, after an extensive bout of reading about the Justice League's recent triumph in battle, she returned to bed, oblivious to the faint blue light that pulsated in the back of her computer. It was small and light. The source originated in the mother board, a trigger for the computer to begin the virus that lived inside her computer since the start. Slowly, the light grew, bathing her one room apartment in a glow.

She was sound asleep when the computer typed: _I'm so sorry for this._

 _Virus initiated._

 _The world will be better off._

But the computer was typing to a dead audience, one that would never remember owning it in the first place. The computer mourned its own loss. It was the guinea pig; it would be destroyed along with the girl. It would be destroyed by the end of the night—all of it. There would never be a trace of the girl or her computer for anyone to find.

In a month's time, the girl would arrive at the footsteps of the richest man in Gotham. Knowledge soared throughout her head, and she would surprise everyone inside the house. She would be a mystery to the greatest detective alive. She would be a mystery to _herself_. She would know all the information in the world, except for who she was.

But, for now, she slept through the growing glow and the end of her world.


	2. Chapter 1

**Okay, so I hope you guys like this. This is all a WIP, but I have an idea of where I'm going. The path is clear, and I hope you guys are enjoying my writing. I'm sorry the updates are going to be a little sporadic, but I am stressed and I have no free time. I hope everyone has a nice holiday!**

* * *

 _Cold. Cold. Cold._ At first, that was all she felt, all she thought. The cold touched her eyes, her hands, her heart. It reached into her soul and twisted her into someone she could never recognize again. It pushed her old self away and into the abyss, making way for a new self, one that has hands embedded in knowledge and information that could change the universe.

Through the cold, her mind started to clear. Well, at least focus more on what was around her. It was as if she had woken up from a dream, but her mind and body were still unresponsive to the outside world. She was in the land of thinking, enveloped by the coldness of the outside world, but wrapped in the growing warmth of her mind.

Images and languages floated through her mind. Pictures of families on vacation, videos of assassination attempts, news articles. Stocks and economies and debt. Difficult mathematics problems, loves confessed on online chats. Videos of super heroes saving the day. . . in French and German and Spanish and Latin. Her mind never stopped.

Moving forward and going backward and never stopping in the now. Until, she slowly came to her body, feeling the heavy and smooth fabric laying on top of her. The feeling of a ray of sun landing on her face, finding its way through the thick dark blue curtains. Red walls, smooth sheets, dark curtains.

 _Where am I?_

"Oh, you're awake." Deep voice. Source. . . right next to her. She moved her head to look at the man and took in everything around her. Burly, middle-aged man. Dark hair, thick shoulders. Worked out. Rich. Three-piece suit. Navy blue tie.

Her mind knew of this man, of that person seated on the dark red chair. Her mouth open, and her voice spoke without her consent. "Bruce Wayne. 32 years old. Parents died when he was eight. Multi-millionaire. Owner of Wayne Enterprises. Adoptive father of Richard John Grayson." Her voice flooded through the entire room, cycling through Bruce's backstory in French, German, Romanian, Latin.

Bruce's kind smile faded away as she continued to talk, speaking dead languages and erupting parts of his past that were buried deep in his past. "Stop," he stated. His voice was firm, no non-sense. She did not, and not because she didn't want to. Her eyes did not show any emotion. They were dead.

He surged on her, hand covering her mouth. He did not want to hear another word about himself. He was kind in the beginning because he assumed this was one of Gotham's many orphans. But now. . . now she harbored a darkness that surrounds one that knows so much about Bruce Wayne. "Do you know your name?"

At that question, her eyes broke their dead stare into his dark eyes. They broke apart and let him in. There was so much knowledge inside her. She paused. Her dead eyes ceased to exist, because she had no answer to his question. Her eyes erupted with emotion and confusion at the idea that no one knew who she was, that even she did not know that she existed.

"I don't know. _Je ne sais pas. No lo sé._ "

 _Who am I?_

A calming voice pushed through her confused mind. It hid the perplexity of the entire situation and helped sooth her racing heart. "It'll be okay," Bruce stated. But he did not know either. No one knew. No one knew except the man that took her memory away. No one could help her. She was lost inside a well of information, and the water kept rising, and the numbers kept shoving themselves down her throat, and the images wouldn't stop. Images of Bruce Wayne's parents laying dead, of technology being supervised, of secret blueprints. . .

Of a black suit that absorbed all light and almost all shock. Of a yellow symbol hanging above the smog of Gotham. Of a young boy standing by his side, fighting crime. Of-

"Batman. You're Batman."

She dug through so much information and pushed herself through Bruce's computer system, even through they were locked underneath her in a dark cave. She moved past firewalls and barriers. She stumbled upon information that only a handful of people knew. Now she harbored such drastic information, information that no one else could know, information that could get her answers, or lead to some help.

The image of Batman and Robin standing side by side burned bright next to an image of Bruce and Richard at a gala. The next emotion she felt was a glimmer of hope, away from confusion, away from her cold mind. However, the calming voice of Bruce was gone, and the last thing she remembered was the feel of cold medal sliding into her arm and enveloping her blood with warmth.

* * *

A consistent beeping erupted through her mind, overtaking her mind from the rest of the room. When the sense of touch came back to her, she realized it was her heart beat. She felt light metal placed on various parts of her body, such as her chest and temples, and knew what they were for. She also felt cold again, but this was because the room around her was a solid 68 degrees Fahrenheit.

 _20 degrees Celsius, 293.15 Kelvin._

Cold steel pressed into her palms and back and legs. Leather wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She was strapped to a table. She was naked. She did not know who she was. She was vulnerable. She was not scared.

Her eyes shot open. Far above her were stalactites, dripping wet from the water that created them. She heard the sounds of bats fluttering their wings and talking to each other. She knew where she was.

 _Underground Gotham. Bat caves. Cold. Natural habitat of nocturnal animals, such as the bat._

Next to her sat a large computer monitor. It ran her vitals and tried to decipher who she was through DNA, fingerprints, facial recognition. There was also the noise of police scanners running codes that she already knew about this robbery on 5th, this speeder down Main. On a separate screen, someone furiously typed names and numbers while running through news articles about Gotham, Metropolis, Star City.

 _Batman. Bruce Wayne._

"Where am I?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her mind spewed off information in every language again, not ceasing, flowing together in one long stream of vowels. She never stumbled, but the words never stopped. She knew what she was saying but did not know how to stop it. She could not stop it.

"I think you already know where you are," Bruce stated. He did not move from his large wall of computer monitors.

She looked around at the cave. It had a cold feeling to it, and not just because it was in a cave. There were weapons and gadgets and tools and vehicles all around her. She still did not feel scared. In fact, she felt safe. That if anyone were to be holding her captive, at least it was Batman.

"Are you going to help me? _¿Vas a ayudarme? Watashi o tasukeru tsumoridesu ka?_ " Her tongue and lips ran through a list of languages, but it was slowly stopping, as if her mind knew that she was supposed to be speaking English. It automatically got rid of dead languages, such as Latin and Greek, and tried to understand what was the most important ones for this conversation.

"Not if you keep doing that."

She chuckled, as if there was anything she could do about her mind. However, there was no happiness in her laugh. It was mostly sad. She was mostly sad. She knew that there should be some memory bank, some place inside her mind that wasn't binary or history or Spanish. She felt lost with all these maps inside her brain.

"I'm working on it, okay?" she said. She followed her English phrase in Romanian and Spanish. Those were the two that remained for this part of the conversation. Romanian because of Richard. Spanish because she felt like it.

There was silence throughout the cave, save for Bruce's intense typing on his computers. Far above, she could hear the falling of water, and she focused on that. Her hands fiddled with the straps around her wrists, but she could not get out. At least, not yet.

"I don't think you're going to find anything on there," she stated only in English.

"And why is that?" Bruce said, bitterness leaking through his voice.

She may not have known anything about her past, but some part of her knew, deep down, what happened to her. "It was a virus, or something like that. I don't know. All I know is that instead of memories, there's information inside me. And instead of data about me, like birth certificates, or a social security number, there's just a blank space."

After another pause from Bruce, he spun around on his chair to look at her. Both of them felt confused, but he seemed interested to listen to what she had to say. "Go on."

"You have to get me off this table first. And something to wear."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm not going to do anything. I'm as confused about this whole thing as you are. Plus, it's kind of chilly down here."

"Okay."

After unstrapping her from the table, Bruce awkwardly shuffled around the Batcave looking for something for her to wear. Alfred Pennyworth–64 years old, valet and butler to the Wayne's, former secret intelligence agent–brought down a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, claiming, "I was unaware that Master Wayne was going to be having a guest, but I will be sure to purchase suitable clothes for you in the morning."

"Thank you," she said, smiling back at the butler. He smiled back at her and promised to return in a few minutes with some food for the two.

She stood up from the table, bare feet touching the cold, stone ground, and began looking around. Bruce did not move from his chair in front of his wall of computer screens, but he kept his eyes targeted on her, ready to pounce. She continued to browse around the cave. She spied Bruce and Richard's suits a little ways away, encased in glass and anticipating their next use.

"Aren't you supposed to be patrolling?"

"Aren't you supposed to be continuing your theory?"

She thought about it for a few moments, hands touching a keyboard, eyes looking at the words on a screen. "The virus was programmed specifically to target me. Somehow, it _knew_ me. It knew my footprint, not just on the Internet, but on those around me. It must have been watching me." As she spoke, she felt an emotion welling inside her. As if she knew what was stolen from her, and that she knew she wanted it back. Her past was gone, but the past created who she was. So now?

 _Who am I?_

"As if, the program was built to just wipe out everything involving my name, my past, my DNA, my everything. Like, I don't even know how that's possible. Is that possible?" She looked at Bruce for confirmation, as if he knew what it was. She already knew the answer; she knew all the answers.

"In theory, it is. However, the destruction of physical things, such as school work, as well as people's memories, is something that is entirely different. It would have to be something incredibly inventive."

"It doesn't exist anywhere. The technology, the theories, the information. There's nothing. At least, not that I can see." Her fingers pressed down on the keyboard as she spoke, flying across but not really paying attention. She was not looking at anything. Her eyes glazed over, but her fingers continued to type.

"Richard's home," she said, eyes not even moving to look at the cameras. Robin swooped in through some hole in the Batcave, landed somewhere off to the side. But she was not looking. Her mind entered a different world, a world that surrounded her with green and blue and red and all the colors of the universe. Indistinct voices and calls and arguments filled her ears, and she was blinded by everything around her.

News castings, pirated movies, cat videos, illegal experiments. It was all there. She was touching it all. She was absorbing it all.

Outside of her world, Bruce stood up, ignoring Richard's questions. The mystery girl had been typing in something to get to the nuclear launch codes. Bruce watched her enter it in, but he did not comprehend what she was doing. Bruce didn't think she knew what she was doing.

Her head turned to him as Bruce approached her. Her eyes were a faint neon blue now, pulsating with the flow of information inside her. Her face was dead; she held none of the emotion that she had a moment before. From Bruce's pocket, he pulled out a long syringe, already filled with a sedative. He grabbed her arm, which was burning hot, and inserted the needle into her blood stream.

After a few seconds, her eyes returned to a normal dark brown color. They were filled with tears. As the sedative began reacting with her blood, she looked up at Bruce and said, "Thank you." There was a thin line between the human that lived inside all the information. The thin line between a person and a killer. A thin line between robot and human.


	3. Chapter 2

**I'm really sorry for the wait. It's been very hectic, and I am incredibly stressed. However, I hope you guys enjoy this, and I would really appreciate some constructive responses! I feel a little iffy right now. I will try and get back to you guys quicker than I have done.**

* * *

Days followed by in a haze of mathematics problems, increased knowledge of the database of the Justice League, and a linkage to the International Space Station. The more she was asleep, the more she knew. The information available to her increased as time passed, as if the virus inside of her brain wanted her to know more, as if the more she slept and dug through everything, the closer she was to finding out everything there was. Her ability to read and speak languages increased with the government's knowledge of Martian, as well as their library of alien languages. Her dreams were of the Internet. She flew through emails and Facebook messages.

Bruce kept a constant watch on her, afraid that if she was not locked up and under constant anesthesia she would try at another nuclear holocaust. So, as Bruce continued studying her DNA and brain waves and genetic makeup, she slept. Slept and expanded her knowledge. Her mind spread and wormed its way into places it did not belong. However, no firewall could keep her at bay for long.

Before long, she discovered the secret identities of Superman (Clark Kent), the Flash (Barry Allen), Captain Atom (Nathaniel Adams), as well as discovered the location of a Justice League base in Happy Harbor, Rhode Island.

As her mind grew, her sub-consciousness began to find ways to work through the anesthesia. Her mind was wide awake, but her body was forced to stay asleep. She started by figuring out which computer was monitoring her brain activity, blood pressure, and bodily functions. From there, she played tag with the firewall system and emerged in a sea of ones and zeroes. She searched for the anesthesia monitor, for the thing that kept her body from moving, for the thing that was keeping her from sharing her knowledge with those around her.

She discovered the formula that Bruce created to keep her under unattended. Combined with the monitoring of her brain activity and blood pressure, he was able to calculate an equation to keep her asleep while he was off working. She inserted the correct number that would slowly bring her out of her induced coma. Just outright stopping the flow of drugs would probably cause damage to her body.

Once she came to, she faced another obstacle. Bruce had handcuffed her arms and legs to the rather cold table. She had nothing to unlock herself. However, there was no lock or hole on the cuffs to show where a key would fit in. Taking a step back in her mind, she searched the Batcave's database for cage and cuff locks. Maybe the release was somewhere on Bruce's intense database.

It took her approximately 67 seconds to find what she was searching for. It took her another 19 seconds to hack the passcode.

Next, she began to take off everything that let Bruce monitor her. Heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity. They all came off. But she left her IV in; who knows when the last time she ate anything was? Her stomach definitely felt empty, but she didn't want to risk running in with the butler—Alfred. He would immediately alert Bruce, wherever he was, or that boy. Richard Grayson. Robin.

It took her a moment to stand up; the anesthesia was still partly in her system. She relied on her IV pole to support her as she moved throughout Bruce's cave. She knew he had a system that could link to his phone, as well as Richard's, that allowed him to monitor the cameras throughout his mansion. She knew he probably would be checking them on the regular, so she submerged her mind into the system and put them on a loop of her laying on the table, of the Batcave being silent. She did not want to alert Bruce before she wanted him to know about her.

God, I'm so screwed, she thought as she moved toward the large super computer in the middle of the cave. She had no plan and was attached to a pole with only a short range of motion. If Bruce came home, or if Alfred came downstairs, she had no great way of defending herself. She did not want to go back on that table. She wanted to do something about the empty space in her memories.

She was going to stay awake. She was going to get Bruce to help her figure out who she was. She was going to figure out what happened.

She sat down in front of the computers, the fabric of her sweats rubbing against her legs. Bruce must have found something about her already, even though the days had started to blend together. She had no idea when she arrived on Bruce's front door step or how long she's been without memory.

She started by searching through Bruce's camera systems, to see how she got here. She doubt he deleted her filings—he probably examined them countless times to see who dropped her off, how she got through his security system. Start at the basics and build the tower from there.

Bruce monitored everything big in his mansion. The outside gardens, driveway, gate, and all outside entrances into the house, including the hidden entrance into the Batcave. There were also a few inside cameras littered throughout the house. One was in the kitchen, one in the main foyer, and a few in the main study. She imagined she showed up on the front door step, like she was an orphan baby arriving at a church's front steps.

As she began rewinding the feed, her mind began absorbing the information, as if touching this super computer allowed her to download the information into her brain. Her mind wasn't just downloading the camera files—no, she was downloading Batman's entire database. This super computer was linked directly to the Justice League's, including the one in secret orbit, and military bases all throughout the country. She received all the information about Batman's enemies—Two-Face, Joker, Mister Freeze, Ra's al Ghul.

However, this download was overriding her mind. The gaining of information while she was asleep over a hundred feet away was dull, easy for her to take in. But, this? This was a super computer linked to networks all throughout the world, touching the bases of the Justice League. This was information overload.

The Batcave entrance in the main study opened, and she saw it on the cameras. She could not move, even if she wanted to. It was not Bruce, or Alfred. If she could move, she would prepare herself to fight. The database in her mind housed ways for her to defend herself. Countless defense moves sat stoic in her brain.

"What are you doing?" It was Richard Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne. Her mouth wouldn't open, and her eyes had turned to a light neon blue, pulsating with the information making its way into her mind. Richard moved down the stairs quickly and with grace, as if he knew of what she had done last time she was awake. He flipped and landed next to her, grabbed the chair and ripped her away from the keyboard.

The download was cut, the direct connection taken away. Her eyes returned to their normal shade, and she looked directly at Richard Grayson.

"I didn't really do anything bad," she said, voice quiet, but eyes directly meeting his. His eyebrows raised, disbelief evident. "I meant more along the lines of, it's not really what it looks like. I'm not going to attempt to release nuclear missiles. I don't even know how that happened. I just wanted to know what happened to me, how I got here, who did this to me."

Richard gestured towards the computer screen and said, "If you were just looking at the information about you, then why are you on a page about Wonder Woman's origin?"

"Okay, umm… I started looking at the cameras and I don't know what happened. My mind just drifted and grabbed at information and started downloading everything."

"Everything?"

"It's hard to explain."

"You're a human flashdrive."

"That feels offensive."

A voice from the entrance Richard used said, "Master Richard, is she awake?"

Richard looked at her, his knuckles white on the back of the chair, before answering. "Yes, she's awake."

"Is she hungry?"

* * *

Halfway through her second plate of chicken alfredo with a side of roasted garden vegetables, she discovered that Alfred knew she had been awake the entire time she was down there but, simply put, "did not want to bother her on whatever research she was doing on the super computer." After that, he cleaned away Richard's plate and left the kitchen.

Through the entirety of her third and final plate, Richard just stared at her. He hadn't really said a word since Alfred offered her food. She felt as if she was a trespasser. _I guess I am,_ she thought. She didn't belong here, in this mansion with her borrowed sweats on and her memories erased. In fact, she was by all means a trespasser. She went through a gate, arrived on the front steps, and rummaged through their database.

When the last bite of chicken was in her mouth, Richard said, "What did you find on the computer?"

She chewed slowly, placed the fork on the plate, and replied, "Look, Richard, you're going to have to be patient with me. I don't really know why I have the whole of that computer in my brain, or that I know Wallace West is Kid Flash, or that I know that Superboy is some clone of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor. Really, honest to God, I have no idea."

"You can't leave."

"I have no desire of leaving until I speak with Bruce."

"Why do you want to see him?"

"To see what he knows about me. I didn't get to finish looking at the computer, everything blurred together until you pulled me away." She closed her eyes, looking for the file that she wanted. It was about her, and she downloaded in, but hadn't really had a chance to look it over. All her DNA, brainwaves, blood pressure, blood type, and the video of her arriving on a Tuesday night. One second there was an empty porch with a fern perched to the left. The next second she was naked and laying on the floor. There was no signs of tampering, of a loop like she had put on the Batcave cameras earlier. It was cleanly cut, and she was confused.

She had a feeling Bruce and Richard were less confused than her. Maybe they knew something about a missing person's case, but were unwilling to put it into the file just yet. "Maybe that Martian girl, or J'onn J'onzz could get a look at my mind. Maybe they can do something with their powers that can't be done through Internet search."

"We're not exposing you to anyone else until we figure out more," Richard stated, grabbing her plate and putting it into the dishwasher. "We can't risk you exposing everyone's secret identities or starting a nuclear war. You're not leaving the manor, and should mostly be enclosed to the Batcave. That's orders."

"I know," she said, turning around on the barstool. "I read the text message when he sent it."


End file.
